


Needle Pricks & Honey

by SynfulCynical



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Praise Kink, Sacrum Lacing, Sensitive bones, Shibari, Sickfic, no ectodongs sorry, papyton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynfulCynical/pseuds/SynfulCynical
Summary: Papyrus comes back home late from work feeling exhausted and under the weather. It is up to the love of his life, Mettaton, to help him unwind and recover.





	Needle Pricks & Honey

**Author's Note:**

> A first in creating smut for me as a writing warm up and challenge to get outside my comfort zone. All hail prompts. Please be kind.
> 
> Special thanks to iqom for being my beta and giving wonderful suggestions. They're a star.

           Papyrus should have been home hours ago. Mettaton knew that much. The dinner he had carefully crafted for his beloved had gone cold and was packed away for another day. Mettaton didn’t blame Papyrus though. Goodness, no! He blamed the stuffy bureaucrats at the embassy and the humans that succumbed to fear of monsterkind. There was always so much paperwork to get through. Mettaton had managers and agents to deal with all that tedious work. He couldn’t fathom how Papyrus was able to handle it all as monsterkind’s ambassador to the humans.

           Mettaton shifted his position on the couch. Lying on his side in a silky nightgown, he hugged a pink, heart shaped pillow to his chest and rested his chin in its crook. The TV flickered a marathon of the previous season of his award winning show,  _ Glamour & Murder _ . It was to gear up the audience for the next season that would air tomorrow. And what an impact he had on the humans! Putting monsters in a positive light and starring in a show both could love was good PR. It made Papyrus’ work easier, he was sure of it!

           The door unlocked and Mettaton lifted his head. His eyes were bright and he smiled warmly when Papyrus shuffled in. “Welcome home, my dearest darling,” Mettaton sang with a trill as he rose from the couch.

           “It’s good to be home,” Papyrus said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. He smiled tiredly, his shoulders sagging, and shut the door. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I know you prepared dinner.”

           “Oh, my precious sugar skull,” Mettaton pouted as he approached. His steps were so graceful and light, he appeared to drift as he closed the distance between them. He couldn’t bear to see Papyrus wear that guilty look when he had nothing to be sorry for. “It’s not your fault work kept you late,” Mettaton purred as he took a hold of Papyrus’ wrist and pressed a kiss against the inside of it.

           Papyrus smiled weakly. “It was supposed to be our night though.” He gazed at the soft, black locks that framed Mettaton’s face and couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself. 

           “And there will be many more still, darling,” Mettaton breathed, eyelashes fluttering. He coiled his arms around Papyrus’ neck and looked into the skeleton’s eye sockets, then frowned at the bags from sleepless nights that sat under them. “Papy dear, you look positively dreadful! Do you want something to eat? I can warm up dinner.”

           “Actually, if it’s alright with you,” Papyrus began softly, “I’d rather rest.” He was fading fast and desperate for sleep, but he had been craving Mettaton’s touch all day. It was all he could do to not moan from the robot’s fingers blindly feeling the structures of his cervical vertebrae.

           “Of course, darling.” Mettaton tightened his hold and leaned in to kiss Papyrus. When the skeleton’s teeth parted, he slipped his tongue inside. Even with their evening being cut short, there was always time for a kiss or two. Papyrus deserved several before bed and Mettaton promised to deliver. Mettaton broke away briefly and gently pushed Papyrus against the door.  He pressed soft and slow kisses along the skeleton’s jaw, chuckling when the skeleton tilted his head back and groaned quietly.

           Papyrus encircled his arms around Mettaton’s waist and pulled him closer. He wanted to take the robot then and there, if only he had the strength and energy. His hands traveled up the robot’s back and he felt the curves and smoothness of the other’s body through the thin nightgown. His phalanges stroked the robot's bare back, up and down cool and flawless synthetic skin. Papyrus eyed the thin strap that slipped off of Mettaton’s perfect shoulder. He could see the movement of synthetic muscle beneath skin as the robot moved practiced hands to the back of his skull and down his vertebrae. The feel of their bodies pressing against each other, the way Mettaton’s hair was tossed messily in a devil-may-care manner, how the robot knew the gradual curves of his spine so intimately, it all made Papyrus crave his lover all the more. “I’ve missed you so much,” Papyrus breathed, moaning into Mettaton’s ear.

           “I’ve missed you too, Papy dear,” Mettaton said softly in between placing light kisses on the other’s neck vertebrae and along his collarbone, sending shivers up the skeleton’s spine. He leaned into the skeleton and rested his head against Papyrus’ chest. Papyrus’ hugs were soothing and he was always so gentle with the robot, as if afraid Mettaton would fall apart at the slightest wrong move. It didn’t matter the countless times the robot told him not to worry, that he was more resilient than he looked, that his perfect body did not harbor fragility. If anything was fragile, it was these moments from how ephemeral they were. How Mettaton longed to be held like this all day. Their careers had cut down the time they were able to spend together, making moments like these even more precious. The warmth Mettaton felt from Papyrus’ embrace was a comfort and he relaxed into it.

           An alert flashed in Mettaton’s positronic brain.  _ Subject’s temperature is exceeding normal parameters _ .

           That’s right, Papyrus was never normally this warm. His core and bones were radiating a terrible, dry heat. Mettaton pulled away and looked him over with concern. His hands moved to caress Papyrus’ face. “Papy dear,” Mettaton cooed.

           “Hmm?” Papyrus gave a slightly delirious, low hum in response. His eye sockets were lidded with exhaustion. He pressed Mettaton’s cool hand against his cheekbone, unable to recognize why the contact felt so soothing, and nuzzled into the robot’s palm. Did it matter? He was finally home with the one he loved. His body felt so heavy, yet light at the same time and the world was spinning around him. He allowed himself to drift off and leaned into Mettaton’s strong support.

           “Come on, dear,” Mettaton continued gently. He draped Papyrus’ arm across his shoulders and took a hold of his waist. He coaxed his beloved to lean more on him. The robot’s body may be lithe, but he was deceptively strong. “Let’s get you out of that suit.”

           He led Papyrus up the stairs to their bedroom. Pushing the skeleton down to sit on the bed, Mettaton took a hold of Papyrus’ tie. The silky royal purple fabric glided between his fingers. He could have put it to good use if not for the embassy getting in the way. Perhaps he could still do something about that?

           A small, sly smile grew on Mettaton’s lips. “Honestly, Papy dear, those bureaucrats are wearing you down! You’re sick with stress. They don’t realize how important you are.”

           “I will admit things have been busier as of late,” Papyrus sighed. “But I can persevere through it all, for I am the Great Papyrus,” he chuckled while puffing up his chest.

           Mettaton propped his knee on the bed so that his shapely thigh brushed against Papyrus’ side. The robot smiled when Papyrus’ phalanges absentmindedly slid from his knee to his hip, then finally settled on his plump buttocks. He pressed his groin against the other, biting his lip with pleasure when he felt a gentle squeeze on his rounded flesh. He loosened the skeleton’s tie, slipped the knot apart, and pulled it off. It was dropped carelessly aside. “I know you are, Papy dear, but while you are seeing to it that monsterkind has an advocate, I think someone should advocate for you...or perhaps help you unwind.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to pleasure you tonight, Mettaton,” Papyrus said, beaming softly, although he did like the thought. His smile reached his cheekbones, which were flushed with a faint blush. He couldn’t help but wonder what their night would have been like if he had been allowed to return home sooner.

Mettaton hushed him and placed a slender finger against Papyrus permanent smile. He giggled, knowing how much Papyrus could actually take. He smiled softly and kissed the skeleton to keep him silent all the while sliding the suit jacket off and tossing it away. His fingers worked swiftly to unbutton Papyrus’ dress shirt until it too laid scattered on the floor. “On the contrary, I don’t want you to lift a finger, darling,” Mettaton said in a smooth and velvety voice. “I’ll be taking care of you tonight. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

           A chill traveled down Papyrus’ spine when he felt the cool air against his shoulders and ribs. His hands gripped the sheets weakly as he watched Mettaton unbuckle his belt and slide the last of his clothing off of his body so that his pelvis was bare.

           Mettaton bit his lip as he grinned. How the soft, dim light fell on Papyrus’ pearly white bones made his soul flutter. He couldn’t help but admire the skeleton’s physique, especially the unseen magic that kept those bones together. He loved how that magic that could only be detected through touch vibrated in reaction to his own. He didn’t need to see the network of magic points and mana lines that ran through Papyrus body to get the reactions he wanted. Mettaton had them all mapped out and committed to memory from their countless earlier experimentations.

           Mettaton reached for the tie and slid the smooth fabric in his hands. He leaned over Papyrus and lovingly wrapped it around the other’s head, tying it tightly to blind him. He kissed the top of the skeleton’s skull and slipped his arms around Papyrus. Mettaton’s delicate fingers caressed and lightly traced his way up over the ridges in his beloved’s vertebrae.

           Papyrus’ breath hitched and was followed by a whimper. He held Mettaton close, pressing his hands into the robot’s back. He wanted to reciprocate despite how exhausted and heavy his limbs felt. It didn’t feel right not to. “Tell me what to do,” he gasped. A shudder escaped him when Mettaton massaged small circles along his spine. His bones ached with the stress from his work. He didn’t realize how desperate he was for relief. Mettaton’s touch felt icy against him, leaving him dizzy and breathless. The robot knew how to take away the hurt.

           “I told you to not lift a finger,” Mettaton teased with a smile. “And I meant it,” he breathed against Papyrus neck vertebrae. He pressed harder at a knotted pressure point between Papyrus’ spine and shoulder blade. The pent up magic began to slowly unravel, but he knew there was more work to be done. 

           Papyrus moaned softly. He tilted his head to one side in acceptance, exposing his neck, and shivered, causing his bones to rattle quietly. He weakly gripped Mettaton's shoulders as much of his body went limp. 

           “That’s my boy,” Mettaton cooed while supporting his beloved’s skeletal frame.  His lips, soft like rose petals, grazed kisses against Papyrus’ neck. “Do you remember our safe word?” he whispered. “It’s been a while after all.”

           Papyrus nodded. His voice was lost to the sensations that shocked him. He hadn't realized how tight the magic was in his core until now that some of the tension was being eased. He could profoundly feel the discomfort and pain in his tangled and knotted magic. He winced. The ache had an underlying sweetness to it, like needle pricks and honey, all because Mettaton was caring for him. His thoughts were swimming in a delirious haze, but Mettaton’s presence kept him grounded enough to be aware of his surroundings. He desperately clung to the other as relief rippled through him. 

           Mettaton slipped delicate fingers between Papyrus’ ribs and curled them around smooth bone. “Good,” he purred, pushing the skeleton down onto his back. Mettaton pressed his body on top of Papyrus’, pinning bony wrists to the bed with slender hands all the while grinding against the other’s pelvis.

           Papyrus squirmed underneath him. More color rose to his cheekbones. “Mettaton…!” he gasped. He didn't know what he wanted to ask for, but he knew he didn’t want the robot to stop.

           Mettaton smiled wryly as he looked down at his beloved. He forgot how exquisite Papyrus looked spread out beneath him. In his weakened and feverish state, the skeleton looked to be delicate like porcelain. He knew what playful touches would make Papyrus sing, but Mettaton resolved to draw out something sweeter. There were places that had yet to be explored.

            “Remember not to move,” Mettaton hummed, slipping his hands behind the skeleton’s back. He moved to gingerly caress Papyrus’ ribs, pressing wet kisses against them and up his sternum, all the while his tongue filling the rounded corners and gaps between bone. His long eyelashes fluttered against the skeleton’s ribs like butterfly wings and dandelion seeds. His beloved was scorching to the touch against his lips and tongue. Any hotter and he swore Papyrus would be sizzling against him.

           “Mettaton…!” Papyrus whined. He felt his soul would burst in his chest, the smallest touches were nearly too much. Instinctively, his hands lifted to the curve of the robot’s back. They slid smoothly down to Mettaton’s hips and settled on his ass.

           “Tsk, tsk…” Mettaton chided playfully in a whisper. “What did I say?” He reached for the nightstand’s top drawer and pulled out a pair of leather wrist restraints. Taking a hold of Papyrus’ wrists, Mettaton shackled him to the bed frame with a widening grin. With a gleam in his eyes, Mettaton flipped strands of hair out of his face and laughed quietly. He laid on top of Papyrus, his head resting on his beloved’s chest. He bit his lip in temptation and glee as he listened to the skeleton’s ragged and shuddering breaths.

           The robot closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the burning heat melding with his body. Normally, the experience was the other way around, although with fewer degrees. Papyrus would hold him in a loving embrace, cooing about how fabulously soft and warm Mettaton was. It was, of course, thanks to Alphys’ genius and the whirring gears and other mechanical parts that made the wonder that was him possible. Still, being held so tightly by his beloved was his entire world in those moments.

           Mettaton nuzzled Papyrus and laughed softly. “I think you’re ready for the next phase of my cure,” he said sensually while cupping Papyrus’ face in his hands. “What do you say, Papy dear?”

           “Yes, Mettaton,” Papyrus’ breath rattled. “Please…”

           “Excellent!” Mettaton slid off the bed and moved to a drawer. He bit his lip in an effort to hold back a grin as he rummaged through it. The excitement was rising within him. He could feel magic surging through his circuits and a tightness swell within his abdomen followed by a pulsing wetness. The intensity was electrifying. He had the impulse to act on relieving himself, but held off so that it fueled his attention for his beloved. It was even more thrilling and rewarding this way.

           Mettaton turned to Papyrus’ form with a thin, silky, hot pink ribbon loosely coiled around his hand. He propped his knee on the mattress and let the ribbon unfurl. “I must say, on one of my tours, I learned of the most exquisite art form to display the body. It got me thinking of the possibilities.” He crawled onto the bed and knelt between Papyrus’ legs. Leaning forward, he slipped his hand behind Papyrus to cradle his lumbar spine and rub his thumb along the smooth inner side.

           Papyrus arched his back in surprise. He grunted and gasped, pulling against his shackles, but they held in place. “Wh-what kind of artform?” he stuttered, voice quivering with intrigue.

           “The name doesn’t matter, darling. What matters is you focusing on the experience. Relax and let it happen. I promise to take good care of you.” Smiling warmly, Mettaton bent his head down and pressed his tongue along Papyrus’ sacrum. He explored the smooth surfaces and secret crevices, giggling softly when he heard the leather restraints creaking followed by a strangled groan. His beloved’s voice was setting all the circuits in his positronic brain alight with lust. His soul pulsed with a new urgency and impatience. No, he had to deny himself release, though the prospect was incredibly tantalizing and filled him with a terrible hunger. He wondered how long he could last.

           Mettaton eyed the four pairs of holes in Papyrus’ sacrum. The lubricants in his saliva seeped into the sacral foramina, interacting with the skeleton’s magic no doubt judging by how Papyrus trembled and moaned with voice rising higher in pitch. The robot lifted his eyes to look at his beloved’s face. Papyrus’ head lolled to one side, teeth parted and chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed.

           The inner surfaces of Papyrus’ sacral formina tingled with a soothing coolness. The sensation spread to the rest of his sacrum and slowly crept throughout his pelvis and up his lumbar spine. His magic felt tight with anticipation. Despite the tension Mettaton was inducing in his body, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed, where he could lie still and simply be in the same room with the robot.

           “Prepare yourself, dearest,” Mettaton sang with a trill.

           “But how can I when—” Papyrus’ voice caught and gave way to a high pitched gasp and whine. Mettaton had pushed one end of the ribbon through a hole as he licked at his lover’s sacrum to keep it adequately lubricated. The magic tightened in Papyrus’ pelvis as the ribbon glided with a smooth sound of fabric rubbing against bone, causing his back to arch once again. The intrusion was explosive and left his mind reeling and in a daze as if thunderstruck.

           “Was that good for you?” Mettaton purred. His breath felt cool as it settled on the skeleton’s bones.

           “M-Mettaton… I—” Papyrus stuttered as he heaved a breath. “Please, stop, I can’t—”

           “I don’t hear the magic word, Papy dear,” the robot hummed. He had the ribbon poised for threading through the next hole. “Do you really want me to stop? There’s only seven more to go and I know you can see this through to the end,” he said sweetly.

           Papyrus clenched his jaw. His skull rolled from side to side. He never felt such intensity before, it was difficult for him to think. He trusted Mettaton with every pulse of his soul though and he longed for his lover’s touch. “Yes, please…”

           Mettaton laughed quietly when no safe word was given. “I promise to go slow, Papy dear. I want to savor this moment too.” True to his word, he threaded the ribbon gently, and grew delighted when he heard his beloved’s breathless whimpers.

           Papyrus’ femur quivered against Mettaton. His body, racked by the second intrusion, felt like it was teetering on the edge of his release. He didn’t know how much more he could take but the needed escalation he was denied was maddening. “S-six more, right?” he shuddered, forming his hands into fists. It was all he could do to hang on.

           “Mhm,” Mettaton hummed. He was crossing the ribbon’s ends and preparing to thread the next set of holes. “How lovely! You’re doing so well, Papy dear!” He stroked Papyrus’ groin, then licked at his fingers so he could slip them inside the skeleton’s pubic bones and spread the lubricant over the various surfaces.

           Papyrus twitched at those words. He normally heard such praises when he was the one in control and Mettaton was riding the building waves of an orgasm he caused. This change in ritual was intriguing, like discovering a new dastardly puzzle. He didn’t know if he would make it through the rest of this lacing, but he resolved to try and last as long as he could.

           Suddenly, Papyrus grit his teeth and moaned when Mettaton threaded the third. He felt his cheekbones flush more, although not from his feverish state. Mettaton was making an absolute mess of him. He had never felt so vulnerable before. The robots tongue continued to lap at his sacrum, creating lewd and wet sounds, then wandered to his obturator foramen, only to return to its former place when the fourth hole was threaded.

           Papyrus almost screamed, and for a moment he thought his legendary stamina had failed him. He felt Mettaton’s smooth locks brush against his face.

           Mettaton stroked Papyrus’ ribs as he bent over the skeleton. The robot remarked at how sensitive his beloved’s bones had become from this activity. He carefully tugged at the two ends to tighten the lacing. “I just adore the cute noises you make, darling,” Mettaton whispered in amusement at the resulting whimper. He pressed a kiss against Papyrus’ skeletal smile and pulled again so that his beloved moaned into his parted lips and Mettaton was able to slip his tongue inside and explore the skeleton’s mouth at his leisure. “We’re halfway there,” Mettaton cooed when he broke away.

           The pause before the fifth threading allowed Papyrus’ tightening magic to settle and for him to regain some of his composure. He panted heavily and watched the insides of his sockets explode with glittering stars like summer fireworks when he felt the silk penetrate through him.

           Mettaton admired his work after the sixth. He took a hold of Papyrus’ hips and kept him in place to prevent the skeleton from squirming. Wrapping Papyrus up in this way was a delightful treat for him and it finally occurred to Mettaton that he was desperately looking forward to the final unwrapping. His mouth watered at the thought and he licked his lips.

           “Please...” Papyrus began in a trembling voice.

           “Please, what?” Mettaton chuckled.

           “I can’t…”

           “I don’t hear the magic word,” Mettaton sang coolly. He strung the seventh, held Papyrus’ hips in place, and bent his head down to grab the ribbon’s end with his teeth, pulling when he lifted his head to smile at him.

           Still no safe word.

           Papyrus body quaked. He thrusted his hips involuntarily in Mettaton’s hands, only to arch his back when his movements were restrained. In his mind he was floating at an all time high, and there was a great way to fall. It was a struggle to think, as if his skull was stuffed with wet cotton. He tightened his fists and panted in an effort to control his breathing. After an agonizingly long pause of silence and inaction, he heard Mettaton giggle and hum. Papyrus sunk into the mattress. His femur shook again nervously as he waited.

           “You’ve been so good, Papy dear,” Mettaton mused. His lashes fluttered as he thought about what was coming next. “Your performance has been absolutely dazzling. A lovely masterpiece!” There weren’t enough ways for him to express just how lovely Papyrus looked being at his mercy. He found himself addicted to the skeleton’s voice snagging and succumbing to a high-pitched whine.

           “R-really?” Papyrus asked in a quivering voice. He relaxed, relieved to hear Mettaton was enjoying himself despite only him being on the receiving end.

           “Of course!” Mettaton said lovingly. “There was not a single dull moment. You’re a natural.” He cradled Papyrus’ lumbar spine again and rubbed his thumb along the inner side, drawing out a moan he loved so dearly. “And now for the climax,” he teased. He pressed his full lips against Papyrus’ sacrum, and left a ghostly afterimage of lipstick in place of the kiss. Threading the eighth, Papyrus whimper broke out into a wail on cue. Oh, how it was music to his ears! He pressed his body on top of the skeleton’s and rested his head on his beloved’s sternum. If he concentrated he could hear Papyrus’ soul thrumming within past the light and honey-sweet vocalisations. Mettaton couldn’t help but lightly laugh in satisfaction and delight when Papyrus gyrated his pelvis against him.

           Waves of pleasure crashed against Papyrus relentlessly as if he was being battered against rocks at sea. He had to remind himself to breathe, the sensations were so deep, too deep, too chaotic and maddening. He felt completely spent as he slowly descended from his high. His lightheadedness only amplified when Mettaton removed the restraints and blindfold. The whole room looked and felt surreal in the soft dim light. Papyrus rested his leaden arms at his sides and stared up in a daze at Mettaton’s face, who looked absolutely angelic with his tossed waves of silken, black hair and out of focus light behind him.

           “There’s my boy,” Mettaton cooed. He caressed Papyrus’ face and traced his beloved’s jaw with his fingers. “How is my precious sugar skull?”

           Papyrus tried to speak, but all he could utter was a soft groan. He didn’t turn away when Mettaton offered a kiss. He welcomed Mettaton’s tongue and the spark of electricity that sprang from the robot’s lips.

           Mettaton helped Papyrus slip underneath the covers and had him roll over onto his side. He wrapped his arms around the skeleton’s ribs from behind. To his relief, Papyrus felt much cooler against his body. The urgent warning box in his positronic brain had stopped flashing. He curled his fingers into his beloved’s ribcage and sighed against the back of Papyrus’ neck. “I think I’ll leave you tied up for the night, darling. At least until morning,” he whispered. “You deserve all the rest in the world, especially for indulging me.” His hands slipped down to the ribbon ends and he blindly tied them into a neat bow after giving them a gentle tug.

           “Th-thank you, Mettaton,” Papyrus’ stuttered, breath hitching and sounding ragged. He moaned when Mettaton rubbed circles into his back and shoulder blades. The magic in his tangled pressure points began to loosen and uncoil, making his bones tingle with a sweet, burning ache. He had never felt lighter.

           “A pleasure to take care of you, darling, Always and forever.” Mettaton slowly kissed Papyrus’ shoulder blade over and over again, each time gauging the difference in degrees in the other’s body over time. Resting his forehead against his beloved’s scapula, he nuzzled into the bone and sighed. “Go to sleep, darling. I’ll be here in the morning.”

           Papyrus closed his eyes, succumbing to dreams. It was the best sleep he had in ages.


End file.
